


good jokes you've told over the years

by elopement



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elopement/pseuds/elopement
Summary: It's the beginning of summer, and Dan's getting married, and that means there's a big party. Anything could happen.





	good jokes you've told over the years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pasdexcuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasdexcuses/gifts).



> pasdexcuses, this is the very loosest of fills for your request of rivals-to-lovers, pining, and getting together—but I hope you enjoy it! <3

Tommy’s not paying attention to the conversation in the front seat because he can’t hear much of it. Every so often he picks up his book and reads a few pages, but really he’s looking out the window, watching the corn fields roll by on the way to Delaware. It’s finally warm out, the woods beyond the farms in full rolling green bloom, and wildflowers dotting the roadside. The whole summer is stretched out ahead of him. Their hours have been better the last few weeks, like maybe things are finally slowing down. Dan’s wedding tonight is the first big party of the season. Maybe he can even get out on someone’s boat next weekend…

He tunes back in when he hears his name. Jon’s saying, “Tommy has a room. You could see if he’ll let you stay.” He catches Tommy’s eye in the rear view mirror and gives him an innocent smile, so Tommy’s skeptical right off the bat.

Lovett peeks around the head rest to give him an appraising look.

“What’s this now?” Tommy says.

“Jon abandoned me,” Lovett says.

“Nope,” Jon cuts in.

“So now I don’t have a room to stay in tonight. But word on the street is that you do.”

“Word on the street, huh,” Tommy says. There’s a familiar swoop in his stomach at the thought of Lovett sleeping near him. He should know better by now, but he can’t help it. They’ve hung out outside of work a fair amount in the six months they’ve known each other, but mostly because of Favs, and always with Favs as a buffer. Lovett tends to avoid being alone with Tommy. “Wait, so how did you not book a hotel room?” Tommy asks.

“Well, Jon and I _were_ going to split a room,” Lovett pronounces.

“I did not say that,” Jon says.

Lovett waves a hand. “It was implied.”

“Not by me,” Jon says.

Typically, Tommy would believe Favs. But the press assistant Favs is in love with is also attending the wedding—Tommy has heard about this, in great detail, for the last two weeks—and it feels possible that a couple months ago he was happy to share a room, and then recently, post-Emily, he thought better of it.

“...But how did you not figure this out until the day of the wedding?” Tommy asks. He’s going to say yes—they _are_ friends, even if Lovett might not describe it like that, they _are—_ but it’s a reflex to give him a hard time first.

“See, there you go,” Lovett says, facing front again. “You can feel all sanctimonious about it if you let me crash there. That’ll be fun for you!”

Tommy lets that one go by without comment.

“So, what do you say?” Lovett asks. He’s still not looking back, and he sounds like he’s brazening it out, like he can’t tell if Tommy’s going to say yes or not, which Tommy kind of hates. He can never quite tell if Lovett actually thinks he’s a dick.

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy says. He slouches down, angling his knees toward the center console so he doesn’t hit Lovett’s seat. He lets his head flop against his seat back and looks up, toward the tops of the massive telephone poles zipping by above them, dark lines into the bright blue sky. “The room was kind of expensive anyway. I wouldn’t mind splitting it.”

“Okay, let’s not get crazy,” Lovett says, perking up again. “You’d be paying for it either way, clearly. So, I don’t—”

Favs is laughing helplessly. “Hmm,” Tommy says, grinning at the window and purposefully not laughing so as to not reward Lovett.

+

“I’ll see you down there in _forty-five minutes,_ Lovett!” Favs calls pointedly after them down the hallway, unlocking his door and disappearing inside.

“I think he’s trying to tell you something,” Tommy says to Lovett, who’s texting, and who, for some reason, has added sunglasses and a baseball cap to his look since they got out of the car. Dan and Howli hired buses to ferry wedding guests from the hotel to the venue, and they have to be on time to get a seat on one.

“Huh,” Lovett says, not looking up from the phone. “Interesting. I couldn’t make it out. Probably not important.”

Lovett leans against the wall and texts while Tommy pats his pockets for the keycard he just put away, but when it takes more than two seconds Lovett heaves a put-upon sigh and elbows him out of the way. “Ow. I almost had it, Jesus,” Tommy says, but he steps aside and lets him open their door for them.

Lovett strolls into the room, drops his suitcase and garment bag on the ground, and flops face down onto one of the beds. Tommy hoists his own bag up onto the other bed and rifles around for his toiletry bag. “Do you want to shower first?” he asks Lovett’s prone form.

“No,” Lovett says, muffled by his arm. He’s tossed aside his sunglasses, but his hat is covering his face, and his feet are hanging off the end of the bed, ankles crossed.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “I’ll be quick.”

+

At first, when Lovett joined the senator’s staff last winter, Tommy had almost thought—it felt like there might have been something between them. Lovett was so genuinely funny and easy to talk to, so quick. When they worked late, he would roll up the sleeves of his button-downs so he looked rumpled and professorial, all broad shoulders and cute glasses, and right away, Tommy had the biggest crush on him.

But Lovett kept his distance. He was subtle about it—nothing Tommy could point to and say _there, see, he doesn’t like me—_ but he could read a room, and Lovett was giving off strong don’t-approach-me vibes. He didn’t eat lunch with Tommy. He’d walk to the subway with him, if they were leaving at the same time, but he’d say goodnight on the platform and shoulder off toward a different car rather than ride together. He seemed determined that they should be work friends, and nothing else. Of course, they worked a lot, so they did get to know each other. Lovett came and perched on the edge of Tommy’s desk every once in awhile, to have a conversation that started with him questioning Tommy about something innocuous—the media plan for an event next week—and ended as Lovett cackled with glee because he’d made Tommy say something inappropriate in front of his desk neighbors—something like, “I am not on the _Atkins_ diet, I don’t even think that’s a thing anymore, Lovett.”

He was always calling Tommy a bro, too—even though objectively, Tommy wasn’t much more of one than Favs was.

That was the other thing. Lovett met Favs at the same time, and they were fast friends. Fast enough, in fact, that there were a couple times early on where Tommy wondered if there wasn’t something going on between the two of them. Favs added Lovett to a group chat they were in, and Tommy thought, _he already gave you his number?_ It turned out he was wrong about that part. The fact that Lovett appeared to dislike Tommy didn’t seem to have anything to do with Favs at all.

+

Lovett wolf-whistles when Tommy re-emerges from the bathroom, one towel around his waist and another hanging around his neck. “Shut up,” Tommy says, and feels his traitorous English skin flushing. He’d half expected to find Lovett napping, but he’s wide awake, sitting in the desk chair and flipping through TV channels. “Go shower,” Tommy says.

“And miss _this_?” Lovett says suggestively. “I’m the envy of every sorority girl at this wedding right now.”

“What an insulting compliment,” Tommy muses, gathering up socks and underwear and preparing to duck back into the bathroom.

“Oh, grow up,” Lovett says blithely, turning back to the TV. “It was clearly flattering. So your demo is Southern college students with blowouts, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I date lots of people,” Tommy says, a little primly. His last significant breakup happened to have gone to UNC, but odds that Lovett knows that are low. “And—at least say college _graduates_ , Lovett, come on.”

“Whoops,” Lovett says, with a shrug that’s half embarrassed, half defiant, raising his eyebrows like _am I wrong, though?_ Tommy dates girls who have just graduated, sometimes, but he’s only _25,_  and what business is it of Lovett’s, anyway?

This situation is already getting away from him, and they haven’t even left the room yet. Jon’s going to be busy following Emily around like a puppy all night, so it would be cool, Tommy thinks despairingly, if he and Lovett could get along.

Tommy considers his options and says, “Hey, Lovett.”

“Yeah?” Lovett says, instantly wary. He has this way of subtly bracing himself, closing off, that always makes Tommy feel like the worst monster, even if he hasn’t done anything.

Tommy takes a deep breath and says, “What about a truce?” It sounds dumb, even to his own ears, but it’s all he’s got. “For the night. We’re sharing a room, and it might be... a good idea—”

“But we’re not—fighting,” Lovett cuts in, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Tommy assures him, “but just, you know what I’m talking about.”

Lovett shifts, plays with the buttons on the remote. “I wasn’t trying to be mean,” he says.

“No, I know,” Tommy says, although he hadn’t, really. “Look, forget it, it was dumb.”

“No, we can,” Lovett says suddenly. “We can call a truce. So, what, I won’t—make fun of you?”

Tommy shrugs. “I mean—let’s not go crazy. You can make fun of me, we just have to be nice to each other.”

It would be great if he could be wearing a shirt while Lovett narrows his eyes and stares him down, deciding—but doing it in a towel will be a fun, humiliating detail to recount in therapy one day, so this works.

Lovett nods once, and smiles that challenging smile at him. “Deal.”

+

Tommy and Favs find a contingent of their coworkers in the lobby among the rest of the wedding guests. The crowd is big and the mood is charged: everyone freshly dressed up and ready to go. Alyssa’s making them laugh with an involved story about a golf game earlier that day when people start to queue up for the buses. They wave goodbye to her and hang back, trailing behind the crowd, still waiting for Lovett to come down from where Tommy left him fifteen minutes ago in their room. Favs looks at his phone and says to Tommy, “Oh—he just texted, he’s on his way down.”

Tommy shakes his head, smiling. “Unbelievable.”

“Try flying with him,” Favs says wryly. “Hey, you don’t mind sharing a room, right? Because I know I put you on the spot, but I think a bunch of people have free beds. I was talking to Cody—”

“No, no,” Tommy says. “Course not.”

“Cool,” Favs says, obviously pleased. He’s such a _friend;_ it makes him so happy when his friends get along.

Lovett jogs up to them just when they make it out of the air-conditioned lobby into the late afternoon sun, about to board the bus, the last ones on. He looks good in his suit, clean-shaven and freshly showered. “Hey, nice glasses,” Tommy tells him, and Lovett smiles one of his more enigmatic smiles.

“I’ve decided that glasses are more formal than not wearing glasses,” he explains, and then, beaming at them, “Look at my two handsome boys!”

Tommy raises his eyebrows at Favs and laughs, something simple and glad settling in his chest about it.

+

The ceremony is personal and sweet, and Howli’s a beautiful bride. She and Dan are both glowing with happiness, and there’s something unexpectedly emotional about seeing Dan up there. And then Dan gets choked up during his vows, and Tommy has to surreptitiously swipe at his eyes. He can see Lovett and Favs doing the same in his peripheral vision, all of them avoiding looking at each other.

+

Favs sticks with them for the whole walk around the corner to the estate where the reception’s being held, happy garlands of ribbon and white flowers leading up to the steps. That’s when he finally spots Emily and perks up like a hunting dog. He disappears with barely a “Hey, I’m gonna, just—”

Lovett rolls his eyes good naturedly and sticks close to Tommy. “He’s getting really ridiculous,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Have you hung out with him recently when he’s waiting for her to text back?”

“Oh, my god,” Tommy says with feeling, smacking the back of his hand against Lovett’s shoulder. “He was saying something and he literally stopped in the middle of a sentence and started texting, and I was just staring at him. We were the only two people in the room.”

Lovett’s laughing. “Yep! I’m not even slightly surprised by that.”

They’re strolling up the front steps behind an older couple. The man has a cane, and he’s negotiating the wide stairs carefully but without too much trouble. His wife looks a little unsteady, though, like she’s regretting not going around to the ramp, where there are handrails. Tommy jogs to her far side and offers her his arm with a well-placed _ma’am_ or two. She seems flustered by the situation but clutches his arm tightly, not shy about leaning her weight against him. He has more than one aunt who does the exact same thing.

“Goody two-shoes,” Lovett scoffs at him in a low voice after Tommy accepts their thanks with a wave of his hand and rejoins Lovett to follow them through the hall and toward the back lawn.

“Just because you’d let an old woman fall in front of you,” Tommy says in an equally modulated voice, grabbing Lovett by the wrist and pointing him toward the rest of the crowd when he looks in danger of veering off toward a suit of armor in a side room.

“That’s homophobic, but okay,” Lovett says, just loud enough in the hall that the couple turns and looks back at them.

Tommy smiles tolerantly in their direction and says to Lovett, beseechingly, “Come on, man. We talked about this. Don’t tell strangers I’m homophobic.”

“Well, be less homophobic and I won’t need to,” Lovett sniffs, before a smile sneaks onto his face. “No—” he says, breaking and chuckling, and announcing grandly after the couple, “I am, of course, kidding.”

“I’m sure they think it’s very funny,” Tommy says, and takes Lovett’s arm again to steer him away. “Nice meeting you,” he says over his shoulder toward the couple. “Enjoy the wedding.” They exit through the propped-open doors and out into the grass, where he’s relieved to see two open bars even before they get to the giant white tent pitched in the middle of the lawn.

“So sensitive,” Lovett says, shaking his arm free and pushing Tommy away.

Tommy shoulder checks him and cuts off Lovett’s indignant response with, “You know, I don’t think you’re taking this truce seriously, and, honestly, I’m a little shocked.”

“That was good-natured ribbing, and I should not be penalized because you don’t understand that,” Lovett says.

“Well, there’s really no penalty system,” Tommy says, queueing up at the bar.

“You say that now,” Lovett says, “but later I’ll find my bag in the hallway because you overheard me saying Boston accents sound dumb.”

Tommy frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know why that would come up,” he says, and laughs at Lovett’s unimpressed look. “I obviously wouldn’t kick you out, I’m not a psychopath.”

It’s their turn at the bar, and Lovett orders two whiskey drinks confidently enough that Tommy takes his without batting an eye.

“Cheers to that,” Lovett says, and clinks their glasses together.

+

This wedding is serving strong mixed drinks, and a lot of wine, and a truly impressive amount of beer.

Favs and Emily find them halfway through the cocktail hour, all of them on their way to pre-dinner drunk. Emily really is distractingly, stunningly pretty up close, Tommy thinks with an obscure sort of pride, watching her talk.

“Oh,” she says, pressing her hand to her chest, “and I can’t believe we haven’t already talked about this, but when Dan cried, during his vows?”

“I know,” Favs says, shaking his head. He gets the goofiest smile on his face when he looks at her. “I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.”

“You know who didn’t cry,” Emily says. “A certain elected official sitting behind me who also kept talking during the reading.”

“We need to vote monsters like that out of Washington. Who was it, though?” Lovett asks, and rattles off some names.

“Guess quieter, Perez Hilton,” Tommy says, eyeing some people walking by.

Lovett looks around showily, as if to say, who could possibly hear me? But he seems annoyed at the admonishment, avoiding Tommy’s eye. 

Favs jokes that it can’t be worse than the guy in front of them who took pictures on an iPad all through the ceremony, which is true enough.

Dan and Howli find them, waving and coming to join them, on their way around the lawn saying hi to everyone.

Tommy clasps Dan’s hand and kisses Howli’s cheek. Dan’s glancing around like the spectacle of it all is a little much, but he also can’t stop smiling.

”So, Lovett,” Dan says. “I heard you didn’t have a place to stay tonight.”

”No, fake news,” Lovett says. “I’ve always been staying with Tommy.” Dan raises his eyebrows at Tommy, a paternal expression on him. “I’m very responsible and definitely planned ahead,” Lovett adds.

”You were, I think, the very last person to RSVP to this wedding,” Howli says, to the delight of everyone in the group.

”To be fair,” Lovett says, raising a finger, “I was always planning to come, wouldn’t have missed it, very happy for you guys—I just consistently forgot for several weeks.”

”I’m teasing,” Howli assures him. “We were happy to track you down and force you to choose an entree.”

A few minutes later, when Dan leads Howli off toward another group, Lovett calls after them, “Enjoy your forthcoming wedding gift, 364 days from now!”

+

They’re seated with some younger cousins of Dan’s, one of them a kind of endearingly nerdy guy who has a long conversation with Lovett, about rigor in the testing of economic hypotheses. Tommy watches a lot of it with his chin resting on his hand, smiling easily when Lovett looks at him for a reaction. Favs is sitting on Tommy’s other side, but he’s distracted, too: about halfway through the meal, Emily stole away to their table and produced a seat out of thin air, sliding in next to Jon.

They switch seats later, waiting for the toasts to start, everyone getting antsy. Favs disappears to go find more drinks, and Tommy switches seats with Emily so he can talk Illinois politics with some of the Midwest cousins. Emily and Lovett are talking on his other side, heads bent, and Tommy is doing his best to appear to be listening to a point one of the cousins is making, while actually straining to hear Emily, without looking like that’s what he’s doing. She’s tipsy and not talking as quietly as she could be, and something about her tone makes his ears burn, even though he doesn't hear his name. “—getting along,” she's saying, sing-song.

"Yeah, well," he hears Lovett say. "We're friends." He doesn't add, _and Tommy made me promise to be nice to him,_ which is interesting.

+

 

Tommy gets pulled into a circle of people dancing to Carly Rae Jepsen, and doesn’t make it out until several songs later. He takes a break at an empty table, nursing a water and loosening his tie. Favs plops down next to him, out of breath, eyes crinkling up when he smiles at Tommy. "How's it going?" he asks.

"Not bad," Tommy says slowly. "What about you? Because it seems like it's going pretty good. With Emily. You and Emily."

Favs throws back his head and laughs. "Yeah, well, I think it is."

"She's pretty cool," Tommy says.

Favs smiles that gap-toothed, irresistible smile. "She is, right? Anyway. Are you and Lovett having fun?"

Tommy shrugs, expansive. "Yeah, I am. Can I—listen, I'm gonna ask you something dumb."

"Shoot," Favs says gamely.

"What's Lovett's deal, with me? Because I thought he kind of put up with me because I came along with you." He winces a little at how it sounds once it's out there, too vulnerable.

Favs is raising his eyebrows delicately. "No," he says, a little too kindly. "That's never been the impression I got. Actually—"

There's a beat while Favs chooses his words. "Dude," Tommy says.

"He said the same thing about you once," Favs says. 

"What, that he thought I didn't like him?"

"Well," Favs hedges. "At first it was hard to tell. You don't always give him a break."

" _I_ don't always," Tommy starts, but Favs holds up his hands placatingly.

"I'm not saying you ever did it to be a dick. And trust me, I know what he can be like, too. I'm just saying, if he was careful, I think that's why."

Tommy nods grudgingly. It's—something to think about.

"But are you asking because..." Favs says. "What?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wishes he had an answer. "Nothing, we just... I don't know, it's fun hanging out with him tonight."

"I'm glad," Favs says, smiling a little too big at him for Tommy's comfort.

"Okay. Good talk," Tommy says, and leads the way back out to the dance floor.

He looks around for Lovett, wandering around the edge of the crowd, and finds him off at the opposite edge of the dance floor, letting one of Howli’s little cousins twirl from his outstretched hand. There are two little girls who must be sisters, both red-headed kids in floaty dresses, maybe four and five years old. One of them was the flower girl, but Tommy can’t tell them apart well enough to say which. The one dancing by herself falls and laughs, and Tommy watches as the other one leans over still holding Lovett’s hand, to pull her up. Lovett balances in the other direction, smiling down at them with his eyes all crinkled up. Tommy slips his phone out of his pocket, wanting a picture of the scene, but the girls scamper off into the crowd together without a look back before he can swipe his phone open.

Lovett turns, and wipes his hands down his slacks, and sees Tommy. His mouth opens in a little shocked _oh_ , caught, and then Tommy sees him cut through it, scoff at himself and laugh. He strolls over and stands shoulder to shoulder with Tommy, and they look out at the dance floor, an ecstatic Michael Jackson song on.

“Do you want to dance, Lovett?” Tommy says.

“Nope,” Lovett says, smiling a big, charming smile that Tommy peeks at out of the corner of his eye. “Go find a bridesmaid if you want somebody to dance up on you.”

“Wow,” Tommy says, smiling back. He’s drunk, and he knows he’s drunk, but it still feels like the whole night is orbiting the two of them. “Come back out there at least,” he says, and nods toward their friends, who are jumping around like idiots and having a lot of fun. Lovett follows him, ducking his face to hide his grin.

It’s a good wedding. In the fall, when he sees a picture from tonight, Tommy will remember how warm it got while they were dancing, until he abandoned his jacket on a chair and unbuttoned his top buttons, pausing at the edge of the tent to drink a few sips of a beer and look off into the night, the speakers pumping music up toward the sky, the air fragrant with magnolia blooms and the sea.

He’ll remember how he kept meaning to lead Lovett out of the tent, take him for a walk somewhere private where they could look up and see all those stars, until they got chilly and had to press close—

But he keeps missing his chance, and before he knows it everyone is gathering to wave sparklers after Dan and Howli as their car spirits them off into the night, and the reception is winding down.

+

They take the last bus back, the ridership down to the youngest and/or drunkest of the hotel guests. Lovett gallantly gives a Wick sister his arm to hold as she picks her way across the grass in bare feet, her high heels dangling from one hand. Once she’s on the bus steps, Lovett turns, like he’s looking for something, and his eyes land on Tommy, like he’s found it. He shepherds them into a seat in front of Tanya, and Jon and Emily slide into the seat in front of theirs, flushed and giggly.

“Tommy! Lovett!” Tanya says happily, kneeling on her seat so she can hook one arm over the back of theirs and the other over her seat back, leaning against the window. Lovett curls up in his seat too, pulling his legs under him, knees against Tommy’s thigh, so he can see the phone Tanya’s holding out. She took a bunch of really awful, really excellent dance floor pictures, and Tommy bends his head together with Lovett’s to swipe through them. Lovett smells—really good, Tommy thinks, and then has to physically shake his head at himself.

“Travis,” Tanya says across the aisle, calling out to be heard over the music that’s playing from somewhere inside the bus. “I carried that bottle of whiskey in my purse all night, so you better pass it to this side of the bus.”

The bottle makes its way around, and Tommy grabs it when Tanya offers it. Lovett watches with an eyebrow raised, like he might say something. Instead his eyes flick to Tommy’s throat as he swallows a shot, and then away. Tommy holds the bottle out to Lovett, who takes it defiantly and knocks back a swallow. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Tommy’s eyes catch on his lips. When he meets Lovett’s eyes again, there’s a complicated expression on his face, but it smoothes out into a smile while Tommy watches, and then he’s handing Tanya her phone back and the moment passes.

+

They end up in the hotel’s courtyard, half of the party in chairs around a fire pit and the rest standing in small groups. A couple cases of beer have materialized and still there's music playing. Tommy and Favs get drawn into a conversation with Elijah about DC sports, only breaking it up when Favs gets distracted because Emily and Tessa are dancing together, giggly and over-the-top silly, but with quite a bit of energy.

Lovett’s watching them too, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He catches Tommy’s eye, and gives Tommy that secret, challenging smile. Tommy smiles back, rocking on his heels. His eyes flick to Lovett’s mouth, and then Lovett’s do the same. There’s a brief, charged moment before Lovett looks away, biting his lip.

He has a flash of it so clearly: crowding Lovett up against the wall, biting that bottom lip for him.

Tommy goes to get another beer, cracks it. He could—try. Is it so crazy? Lovett’s already going back to Tommy’s room tonight, and they’ve been having fun.

Tommy goes to join Lovett, talking to Travis and Tanya. “No, she has a _t-shirt line_ ,” Tanya’s saying.

“I can’t wait to look that up tomorrow and feel so smug about my own life,” Lovett says. “I may not be writing my own TV show, and I may have eaten Taco Bell breakfast more than one time in the last month, but at least I’m not designing t-shirts. What is on them? What is possibly on them?”

“I don’t even know—phrases that she wrote? They’re all nonsense.”

“A girl I used to live with designed necklaces,” Travis says. “But not in a cool way. Not like, she made necklaces. In a very Hollywood, like—”

Lovett turns to Tommy and says, low enough that he doesn’t interrupt Travis. “I can feel your judgmental energy from here.”

Tommy smiles slowly. “I just have some questions, like, do you wake up early specifically to get Taco Bell breakfast?”

“Sorry some people eat carbs, Tommy. Grow up,” Lovett says, to Tommy’s laughter. Lovett’s drunk—eyes bright and color high in his cheeks. He lifts his beer can to his lips and then lowers it sheepishly. “This is empty, and I keep trying to drink from it.”

“Do you want another?” Tommy asks.

“Oh, okay,” Lovett says, looking—Tommy is fairly sure—a little pleased and embarrassed.

“Do you need a beer?” Travis interjects, pointing at Lovett’s can. “I’m getting one.”

“Oh—yeah, sure,” Lovett says.

“Tommy?” Travis asks, pointing at him.

“I’m good,” Tommy says, brandishing his.

And then Tanya’s asking Lovett if he talked to an old coworker of his at the wedding, and then Travis comes back with Deray, and Erin and Alyssa join them, too, and it’s fun, the mood is high and everyone’s being funny—but all Tommy’s really thinking about is how to get Lovett alone. If Lovett was a girl, Tommy would touch his hair, or take his hand, maybe put an arm around him. But with Lovett it’s all unthinkable, ridiculous; he’d never go for it in front of all these people they both know.

But maybe Tommy doesn’t have to do all that. They _have_ a hotel room. “Hey,” Tommy says quietly, and touches his knuckles to Lovett’s forearm, waiting til Lovett looks at him to go on. “I, uh, think I’m gonna go up.”

“Oh,” Lovett says, frowning. His face is compelling this close up, the sweep of dark lashes against his cheek, the deliberate line of his jaw. “Yeah, okay.”

Tommy drops his voice a little lower—everyone else is being loud, and Lovett is watching him so carefully—and says, ”You could come up too.”

Lovett’s eyes snap up to his. Tommy looks back steadily, and then he turns and announces in a normal voice to the group, “I think I’m gonna go to bed.”

He glances at Lovett, makes sure he’s looking. Lovett’s not blinking. “I’m tired,” Tommy says, looking right at Lovett and feeling not remotely tired.

There’s a round of name-calling and hand-slapping as he says his goodnights and gets mocked for going to bed early. He claps his hand on Lovett’s shoulder for a second, and Lovett’s expression is careful when he looks up, a slight crease in his forehead. Tommy squeezes his shoulder once and meets his eyes, tries to act natural about it, and then makes himself walk inside without looking back.

He loiters by the elevator bank for a minute like a creep, not pressing the button, glancing at his phone and prepared to look like he’s just arriving if anybody else walks around the corner. It’s stupid, it feels too exposed down here, and if Lovett _is_ coming it’s not like he doesn’t know where the room is. He already has a keycard.

His leg is jiggling in the elevator, and he makes himself stand up straight. God, if Lovett doesn’t show up, he’s going to have to jerk off, he’ll never get to sleep if he doesn’t. It’s fine, he can—jump in the shower and do it in there to make sure Lovett doesn’t walk in on him.

It won’t be so awkward if Lovett doesn’t follow him. He can play it off if anyone asks about it, say he was never asking Lovett to go upstairs at all. He and Lovett will know it’s a lie, but that’s fine. He can live with that.

In the room, Tommy tosses his jacket over the back of a chair, then decides he should hang it up instead, but stops himself from reaching for it. It’ll seem more casual where it is. He could turn on music?

God, how has he ever hooked up with anyone before?

He didn’t imagine the vibe between them tonight, but that doesn’t mean Lovett’s going to choose to come up.

Tommy sits on the bed, kicks his feet up and flips on the TV. He’s settled on an episode of Friends when there’s a knock at the door. When Tommy looks out the peephole he’s greeted with the top of Lovett’s curly head, like he’s looking down. Tommy pulls the door open. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Lovett says, looking a little deer-caught-in-headlights about it. “Um, I stole some champagne,” he says, holding it up.

“What? That’s awesome,” Tommy says, getting out of the way. “I didn’t think you’d knock. You have a card, remember?” He feels dumb, shy, like the haven’t spent all night together, like Lovett’s a new person, again.

“Yeah, I know,” Lovett says, and lets Tommy block him against the door after it closes behind him. His shoulders hit it. Tommy plucks the bottle of champagne from his hand and places it on the ground, out of the way, then steps back in. The closer they stand the more obvious it is how much shorter Lovett is. He has to look up to make eye contact. “I didn’t want to just—barge in,” Lovett explains.

“Hey, Lovett,” Tommy says.

Lovett closes his mouth, his expression softening but still wary. “What?” he says back, looking between Tommy’s eyes rapidly. “A truce?” he says teasingly.

Tommy steps in that crucial bit more, touches Lovett’s arm, and leans in, hesitating before their lips meet. He’s trying to go slow, but not kissing feels like holding apart magnets that want to pull together. Lovett presses forward and kisses him, soft, really soft and sweet. Tommy closes his hand around Lovett’s bicep and the space between them zips closed. Finally: the thrill of Lovett’s body alive in his arms, pressed safely against a hard surface where he can’t get away.

“Thank fucking god,” Lovett says when he comes up for breath. “I didn’t know—I _knew_ I was right but I still thought I might get up here and find you, like, in your pajamas and asleep, and you’d tell me to keep it down—”

“I didn’t know if you’d come up,” Tommy says, nosing under his jaw then kissing him there.

“Yeah, your moves could use some work,” Lovett says, breathlessly, squirming like his neck is ticklish there.

“I’m happy with the results they produced, so suck it.”

“You suck it,” Lovett says nonsensically, and even though it’s stupid it’s still hot hearing him say it, so Tommy has to kiss him some more.

Lovett wraps his arms around Tommy’s neck and stands on his tiptoes, kissing with teeth and tongue, then rolling his hips against Tommy. Tommy’s hands slide around Lovett’s waist, under his jacket, to reel him in, lift him up, and he shoves a thigh between Lovett’s legs. Lovett goes easily, legs wrapping around Tommy’s waist like they’ve just been waiting to open up for him, and all of him arching and squirming into Tommy so it’s not even hard to hold him up against the door. Lovett’s doing most of the work with his legs, clinging like a spider monkey. “Hold on, okay?” Tommy says, wrapping an arm securely under his thighs anyway, and spinning them and taking the few lumbering steps to the bed so he can deposit Lovett on the comforter and climb over him.

“Ow,” Lovett says, pouting, then wraps a hand in Tommy’s tie so he can yank him in and shove his tongue in Tommy’s mouth, holding him there. Tommy makes out with him, unhurried and happy to be pinned, humping Lovett’s thigh a little, until Lovett eases up on his tie. Tommy yanks down the knot then pulls it off, tosses it somewhere.

He noses under Lovett’s chin again, nipping at the thin skin until Lovett’s squeezing Tommy’s ribs with his knees. Tommy gets a hand between Lovett’s legs and touches him through his clothes, stroking over the hard line of his dick then cupping his balls and further back. “Okay, just—” Lovett pushes him back— “take your clothes off.” He sits up and starts unbuttoning his own shirt, and Tommy does as he’s told.

He throws his clothes off as quick as he can, wriggling out of his pants while trying to watch Lovett do the same. He should’ve done this differently, should’ve made Lovett let Tommy undress him slowly and bite at every new inch of skin. He has a smattering of chest hair, and then a trail below his belly button leading to the dark, curly hair between his legs, and his cock, pink and straining upward, which Lovett grasps spasmodically while Tommy watches. His chest is rising and falling visibly fast, and he’s tracking Tommy carefully.

“Okay, maybe don’t just— _stare,_ ” Lovett says, sounding like he can’t decide if he likes it or hates it.

“Sorry,” Tommy murmurs, and takes Lovett’s face in his hands and presses him down into the covers, tangling their legs together, both of them gasping when their cocks line up for the first time.

“Do you want to—” Lovett says after a few minutes of rolling around. “I want you to—” Tommy noses against his cheek, breathing close, until Lovett goes on. “You could fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, before Lovett’s done saying it, nodding dumbly and kissing him. “Do you have—”

“In the—”

Doing this makes him feel dead sober and also drunk all over again, working a couple fingers inside Lovett and holding him still with a hand in the crook of his knee, up by his chest. Lovett’s face is screwed up in pleasure, head thrown back until every few minutes he forces his eyes open and looks at Tommy—desperate, disbelieving looks, until finally Tommy’s saying, “Lovett, can I?”

Lovett nods, lips pressed together, and pulls Tommy up his body until they’re kissing again, Lovett’s knees bracketing him. Tommy fumbles for more lube and reaches down to slick himself up. He’s trying to push in but he feels so clumsy, folding Lovett’s leg up and out, until Lovett takes charge and wriggles out from under him, turning over onto his hands and pulling Tommy along to blanket him, kissing over his shoulder and pushing his ass out. The head of his dick breaches Lovett’s rim, Tommy’s fingers flexing on his hip. He’s so, so tight, Tommy has to squeeze his eyes shut until Lovett’s making a whining sound, trying to get Tommy to move. And then he does—terribly, impossibly good, the drag of his dick and the sounds Lovett’s making.

He levers himself further over Lovett, pushes him down onto his chest and spreads his knees so Lovett’s almost flat, just his hips up.

It feels so stupid good to fuck him like this, with deep, slow rolls of his hips, and his nose buried in the warm, sweet-smelling nape of Lovett’s neck. Tommy could bite the meat of his shoulder if he wanted to. He could come like this, too. He could do this for hours first, until his arms are ready to give out, and then bury himself so deep in Lovett’s ass— He’s not going to get to do that, though, because Lovett sounds like he might be sobbing. He’s whining and shoving back against Tommy with each of his thrusts, like he can’t get it hard enough. “Please,” he’s gasping, “fuck, keep going, please,” his fingers twisted in the covers.

Tommy hoists himself up with a grunt, holds Lovett’s hips steady, and pulls out. “What are you doing?” Lovett mumbles into his arm. He lets his hips flop down. Tommy knee-walks backward then gets his feet on the floor and stands. “Tommy,” Lovett says plaintively over his shoulder. “If you stop right now I’ll genuinely murder you.”

Tommy huffs a laugh at him. “You’re so whiny. Do you even want to get fucked?”

“ _Yes_ , god, you’re mean,” Lovett says. He’s sounding more alert. Tommy grabs his ankles and yanks him down the bed a foot or so. Lovett makes some offended noises and squirms his hips around a little to get comfortable, but doesn’t otherwise get up. Tommy palms Lovett’s ass, holding his cheeks apart and kneading his thumbs into the muscle so Lovett groans and flexes into the touch.

“That’s right,” Tommy says, “come here, lift up—” and Lovett does, following the motion of Tommy’s hands, hefting himself up onto his elbows and knees, and dropping his head onto his arms. “Spread your legs more, just like that,” Tommy says, hands on Lovett’s hips, getting him low enough so he can smear his dick against the crack of Lovett’s ass, pressed up close. It’s the worst, sweetest torture feeling Lovett push back searchingly—he makes a little, bereft sound, and tries to angle his hole so that Tommy’s dick can fuck back into it. “Fuck,” Tommy says, and takes himself in hand and shoves back in. Lovett groans loud and low, half needy, half pained, and Tommy wants to know what it feels like to be split open like this, even as he’s shuddering forward into the tight, slick heat, having to rest, then, and brace himself on a palm pressed into Lovett’s lower back.

He holds Lovett still with that hand, too, needing a minute to get his breath. “You feel so good,” Tommy tells him, low and embarrassingly earnest.

“Mmm,” Lovett whines, hitching his hips.

“I know, I know,” Tommy says, “here—” he gets a grip on Lovett’s thighs and snaps his hips forward once, twice.

“Jesus, fuck,” Lovett says.

And then Tommy’s fucking him in earnest, reaching a hand under him to jerk him off. Lovett looks back over his shoulder, finding Tommy’s eyes and gasping out, “I’m going to come. I’m going to—” and then he does, spurting hot across Tommy’s hand and shuddering.

Tommy slows down to watch him and then drives into him until he’s coming, too, gripping Lovett’s hips and pulling him closer and closer and thinking nothing but crazy thoughts, like, _I want you so much, I like you so much._

+

They’re laying in opposite directions on the bed a little later, Lovett’s feet toward the pillows, near Tommy’s head. Lovett had pulled back on boxer briefs and a t-shirt after, so Tommy was wearing his underwear too.

“It’s after midnight. The truce is over, I’ve turned back into a pumpkin,” Lovett says, “so now I can tell you that it’s weird to keep your socks on during sex.”

Tommy shakes his head, an arm tucked behind his head, smiling up at the ceiling. “You’re  _such_  a dick.”

Lovett laughs a little at his own joke. "Anyway. So that was—unexpected."

Tommy crunches his stomach so he can prop himself up on his elbows and look at Lovett. "I know," Tommy says. "Listen, tell me to stop talking if you want to, but if I'd known all I had to do is ask you to be nice to me—"

"Don't stop talking, necessarily, but did you really—was I really  _mean_  to you?"

"No," Tommy says. "Was I?"

"No," Lovett says, sitting up a little too so they're looking at each other. "I didn't think you were mean. I thought you were a little judgmental, and also that you had a girlfriend, so probably I didn't want to get wrapped up in anything."

Tommy frowns. "I didn't have—only when you were  _just_  starting."

Lovett shrugs and flops back down. He twitches his knees so they lean against Tommy's torso. 

Lovett’s stomach growls loudly and Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Uh-oh.”

“Sorry,” Lovett says, oddly polite.

“No, I was just thinking about how hungry I was,” Tommy admits. “And did you see the texts we got?”

Favs had drunk-texted them ten minutes ago, while Lovett was in the bathroom, to tell them to come back down and have pizza.

“We could, like, go down separately?” Lovett says slowly.

Tommy watches him thoughtfully and then says, “We could go down together. Nobody’s going to know.”

“Maybe if you fix your hair,” Lovett says.

“Look in a mirror, Lovett,” Tommy says.

“No, anyone down there is wasted,” Lovett agrees. “Let’s go.”

They dress and head down, shoving each other in the elevator until Tommy’s laughing helplessly, unable to keep the smile off his face. He loops an arm around Lovett's shoulder in the hallway once they're out, and Lovett lets him, bites his lip and smiles and then pinches Tommy's side to get him to let go. It's been such a long day, and he's dying to eat, and take Lovett upstairs again, and to do everything else in the world.


End file.
